


Hide and Seek

by SanSanFanFan



Series: The Tea Party [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Faith of the Seven, Fluff, Fluff and more fluff, Sevenmas, The Tea Party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 20:37:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2825351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SanSanFanFan/pseuds/SanSanFanFan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Third part of the Tea Party Series</p><p>'On the first day of Sevenmas my true love gave to me'... an invitation to tea with Prince Tommen and the Hound... and some new guests!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hide and Seek

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThreeHills](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThreeHills/gifts), [Kitamere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitamere/gifts).



Sansa let the gentle babble of Baila’s words wash over her like water from a brook as the young woman dressed her hair for the day.  Tilis was just as bad, interjecting softly with her own stories from court.  Ser Allendine was paying especially attention to Lady Brand, but she had an eye cast on Ser Grall…  The washpot girl had been seen with floury palm prints on the chest of her dun dress… The fletcher was churning out arrow after arrow now that Sibya the winebearer was thought to be showing an interest in one of the blacksmiths instead... 

The Maiden statue on her dresser, surrounded by the soft warm glow of short pink candles, drew Sansa’s eye.  With Maiden’s Night tonight she was not surprised that the keep was afire with new loves, loves lost and loves in vain. The first night of Sevenmas was in some ways more important than the seventh and last when all gifts were exchanged.  Sansa smiled as Baila happily hummed “The Seven Days of Sevenmas” under her breath as she laid out Sansa’s flowing purple silks for the day.  Tonight Baila and Tilis, and all the women of the South, would lie down to sleep while hoping that the Maiden would send them a dream of their true love, their future husband.  Although, Sansa wondered if they always had to be one and the same.  Joffrey was her betrothed, but she’d long since realised that he was not her beloved.  A cruel and malicious king, but not her love.

“And Baila has had three gifts already today!” Tilis tattled.

“You’ve had two!”

“A single almond paste flower hardly counts!”

“If it’s sweet, and if he says the words, then it counts! Maybe you will be dreaming of the kennel boy tonight!”

“Shush you.  Lady Sansa, have you had any gifts?” asked Tilis softly.

Sansa smiled wanely. In order to ‘sway’ the Maiden gifts could be given.  Sweets.  Small marzipan, or jellied, hearts and flowers.  Just a single one perhaps, or from richer admirers, great big boxes of hundreds of them.  They were thought to lie on the tongue and to bring sweeter dreams of the giver. “Dream of me, my lady.” the men said here in the South, as though the woman had a choice in her dreams from the Maiden.  Sansa sighed, as if the lady had any choice in her fate at all, she thought, thinking of Joffrey and their betrothal.

“Silly girl, she’s promised to the King.  A fool and his head would soon be parted if he thought to ask that she dream of him.”

“But surely the King has sent sweets?”

Sansa was silent, staring at the Maiden again, and then she quietly said. “He has no reason to try and win me, or to sway the Maiden.  I am already his.”

The two maids busied themselves then.  But love was still in the air.

It was so different in the North. There, Sevenmas was about family and friends, snowflakes and warm fires, lights and sweet smelling boughs brought inside.  In the South each night before Sevenmas itself was dedicated to a different aspect of the Seven, and specific gifts could be given to mothers, fathers, warriors, smiths, the elderly.  And then there were yet more gifts given on Sevenmas itself when the Stranger was forgotten, or ignored, in the rush to give gifts to all on his Night.  It was a week long festival of buying and giving, the streets full of hordes of frantic gift purchasers.  And Maiden’s Night brought out the love struck couples, the desperate dreamers, the hopeful.  It was different even to the Maiden’s Day much earlier in the year when maidenhood was celebrated and all the pure young ladies of court paraded through the city on the way to a day long ceremony in front of the Maiden in the Great Sept. Maiden’s Night was about the bed, and what could happen there.  Dreams or… something else.

Tilis returned to gossip, “I hear that the head cook has her eye on the wineseller and hopes that he will wish her sweet dreams tonight.” she trilled.

“She only wants as many sweets as possible! As though she was not large enough! But did you know that even the Hound is courting-” said Baila sniggering.

“The Hound?!” asked Sansa in surprise.

“I know! I was very surprised too my lady! But Nella said that Ebrig saw him several times, going into a shop on the Street of Silk.  There’s a widow there, sells dolls-”

“Threa Hill?”

“Yes! That’s her!  And what does a man like the Hound want with dolls?  There’s only one thing a man like _him_ wants.  And maybe he’s got bored of paying for it.  Oh! Excuse me, my lady-”

Sansa dismissed her apology for her crassness, a frown starting to spread across her brow. Perhaps it wasn’t what they thought.  Perhaps he was collecting more dolls for Tommen?  But there was no way Joffrey’s dog would be sent for such a task.  Besides, Tommen had had the last one, the Lady Sansa doll, delivered to the Keep.  She’d seen it wrapped all in brown paper and string.  And Sansa herself had two dolls hidden away in a box under her bed that had been sent by the lady seamstress, as per her order.  Another Lady Sansa and… a Hound.  She blushed as she thought of how she had made the dolls kiss.  And all the while the Hound was courting their maker.  Sansa scolded herself, she was such a silly child!

A knock came at the chamber door and Tilis rushed to answer.  “Perhaps it is finally a gift from the King!”

But there was a herald there, a small boy in Baratheon colours, holding up a small envelope.  Tilis took it without thanks and brought it to Sansa.  She knew what it was immediately, recognising the quality card and the purple ink.  A third invitation to tea with Tommen.  And the Hound.

“I’ve changed my mind.  Not the silks today.  Something plainer.”

“Today?! With Maiden’s Night upon us?”

“Yes, Baila.  The simple brown travel dress will do.” Sansa ignored their confused looks.  It would not do to be wearing fluttering silks in the presence of the boy prince.  And the man who had desires for another woman. 

***

The first time she had walked these corridors with an invitation in hand she had held it before her as her key to her free passage in case he had found her alone.  The second time, she had held it as a piece of her joy made into card and gilt ink.  This time… this time she held the card down at her side in a weakened hand, on a strengthless arm, on a body that reluctantly wandered  its way to Tommen’s chambers.  She righted herself before she got there, though.  She straightened her back and drew a smile on her lips as she reached up to knock. 

“Good afternoon, little bird.”

She yelped a little as he silently emerged from the shadows behind her and stopped her in mid-movement.  He was dressed in his battered old armour, unshaven and muddied.  And he carried some rags over one arm.

“Ser Hound!” she gasped.

He frowned, but did not correct her.  Then she felt his eyes travelling over her and her plain dress.  “No pretty feathers today? And such a downcast face? Did you receive only _ten_ sweet gifts for this eve’s Maiden’s Night?” he growled.

“None.  And I do not expect any.”

“Aye, but it might be a relief if you were to dream sweetly of the King for once… mightn’t it?”

Sansa lowered her eyes.  He could not know that she had nightmares about Joffrey.  About the things he’d shown her and done to her.  The things he might yet do.

“I love the King. He is my betrothed and my beloved.”

“Of course you do, girl.” Again his eyes ranged over her.  “But it’s well that you’ve dressed like a plain little bird today. The little prince ain’t here. I’m to take you to him.”

Her eyes widened as he drew out a rough, ragged cloak from his arm.  “Put this on.  We’re to go into the city.”

“The city!” she gasped, such a terrible risk!

“Do exactly as I say and all will be… all will be well.  If not, we’ll lose our heads.”

She shrugged on the cloak, starting a little as he reached over her and pulled up the hood over her hair. “Keep the red covered, girl.” He snapped.

The Hound’s large hand wrapped about her arm as he took her down corridors she was not familiar with, routes that took her past servant’s quarters, storerooms, dusty abandoned spaces.  And then they were out in a small courtyard she did not know, where there was a small gate he quickly took them through, the guard there nodding them past, coins in his hands. 

“Dream of me, my lady!” the guard shouted after them, earning a sneer from the Hound.

And then they were in the jumble of streets of the city, hot and dusty when with Sevenmas only days away Sansa was more used to piles of soft snow and shapes drawn upon the windows in ice.  But no matter how warm it was, the Hound kept her moving, taking her through markets, alleyways, winding steep steps and long streets of trader’s shops and homes.  Everywhere they went there were seven pointed stars decorating the walls and hanging across the way on ribbons above them.  And so many people! Mostly couples laughing and smiling, arm in arm as they perused gifts for each other.  Or men, standing alone, boxes of sweets at hand for almost every passing woman. “Dream of me, my lady! Dream sweetly! Have a sweet, and dream sweet!” shouted out at any pretty girl, hope thick in the air.

The Hound steered her away from them, but every so often the calls were aimed at her, even beneath her dark hood and cloak.

“Fucking idiots.” Growled the Hound, not caring that she gasped at his curse.

“You do not like Sevenmas?”

“I do not.”

“I admit that this is very different to how it is in the North.  At home.”

“Is that so?” She was surprised by the softness of his words, even more surprised when he paused them in an alley way.  She thought that he wanted to stop to hear what it was like, but then a patrol of gold cloaks passed the entrance to the alley, explaining his actions.

“Tell me then!”

“Oh!” She stuttered.  He did want to know! “Its… it’s… colder.”

“Of course it bloody is!”

“And we only share gifts on Sevenmas day.  Something small, something thoughtful.  The evening feast is more important.  Being together, being warm and away from the cold outside. Friends and family.”

“Sounds… nice.”

But then he’s got her arm in his large hand again, moving her off through the city to a long collection of craftmans’ shops, and she sees reams of glorious silks glinting through the thick glass of their fronts.  The Street of Silk!

He pulls her up a simple set off stone steps at the side of one of the smaller, plainer shops, squashed between grander dressmakers.  They pause in the dark and much cooler stairwell as the Hound raps at the wooden door at the top.  He pauses, then raps again in another pattern.  What was going on?!

The door was opened and the Hound brought her in.  It was a humble home, almost bare of furniture, apart from a large bed, a stove, and a large wooden table.  Wardrobes set into the walls had ornate scrolling designs drilled into them, trees, woodland creatures, little birds.  And in the far wall was another door, perhaps to the privy? But the room was sweet smelling.  Very sweet smelling and Sansa thought perhaps there were cookies baking in the stove.

Sansa looked at the boy who had opened the door for them, and for a second she thought that it was Tommen himself, he had the same golden hair, the same sweet eyes.  But this boy was far thinner and in far simpler clothes.  A woman stood at the table quickly tidying away sewing things and scraps of cloth.  And half-finished dolls.

“Come in! Come in!” the woman happily shouted over the sound of children laughing.  Sansa was amazed to see the real Tommen dashing about the room with two smaller girls, both with tumbling fair locks, but like the boy also in plain brown, and regularly patched, clothes.  But so was Tommen! She had never seen him in anything but the finest velvets and brocades! But here he was looking just like the small children he was playing with, if a little tubbier- a little better fed. Their game seemed to mostly involve hiding and then wildly shrieking as they took turns being ‘it’.

The woman swept around the table to greet her as she removed her hood and cloak.  “My lady!” she bobbed low in a rough curtsey.  Sansa shook her head.

“Oh no! Please don’t do that.  Not in your own home!”

“Sansa!” Tommen ran to her, but he stopped himself before he crushed her with a hug, giving her a bow instead that she returned with a curtsey.

“Now we’re all bloody well here, can we get on with this foolishness!” the Hound snapped, and Sansa was amused to see Threa glare at him along with her. And then she felt… unhappy for some reason.

“Don’t pretend that you haven’t been dying to have more of my baking!” Threa moved quickly to lay the table, bringing a kettle from the stove, and the sweet smelling cookies that Sansa had hoped for.  She watched the dollmaker as she worked quickly.  She was older than Sansa, but with three children under nine that was not surprising.  But she had a ready smile that Sansa already liked, beautiful golden hair that tumbled over her simple dress that made Sansa deeply envious, and a curve to her hips and her breasts that Sansa thought many men would like.  She wondered if that was what the Hound liked about her.  Or was it because they were both from the Westerlands originally?  Sansa was surprised that he had taken up with a women, a widow, with three children.  But then, he was very kind to Tommen.  He was surprising her more and more each time they met for tea.

Sandor poured for them all, as Tommen and the other boy gathered up the girls to come and sit with them.  Threa laid out the plates of warm cookies and Sansa tasted one.  It contained within it a mix of spices that were popular in the North at this time of year, and small tears pricked at her eyes as she was instantly sent home by the taste.

“Do you like them?!” Threa asked, leaning forward eagerly.  “I tried something different.  Something more from a traditional Northern Sevenmas.”

“Oh! They are lovely! Thank you!” Threa smiled broadly, pleased.

Sansa saw Sandor out of the corner of her eye considering the plate and then taking one.  And he seemed pleased by them as well, even though he had no sweet tooth like Sansa.  He poured tea for them all.

“Might I introduce my children, Lady Sansa?  This is the man of the house, Bryn.  And his sister is Serel.  And the little one is Anda.”

“I am very pleased to meet you.” Sansa smiled at them warmly.  But only Bryn smiled back, the two little girls looked down shyly at their cookies.

“They’ve never met a real princess before.” explained Threa.

“I’m not a princess!”

The Hound huffed. “As near as.  Betrothed to the King-”

“But they’ve met Tommen before.  His highness?”

“Oh no, this is his first time visiting us.”  Sansa’s heart dropped. She’d thought for a moment that was perhaps why he had been seen visiting her.  That maybe ‘Ebrig’ had mistaken the prince’s visits in the company of the Hound for the fearsome warrior _courting_ the dollmaker.  So he had only brought Tommen here for this first time, brought him where he knew the woman well, and trusted her.  Well, she could not begrudge the prince the chance at playing with friends.  Nor the Hound, she supposed.

“But Sandor was very careful.  He visited many times to make sure that it was safe for Tommen to come here.  Found a difficult to follow path through the city.  Made escape plans for if anything should happen.”

‘Sandor’, was it?  Sansa’s heart fell further, until she realised what the woman was saying.  He’d visited on his own to make sure it was safe for Tommen! But that did not necessarily mean he was not interested in the woman.  Gods! She was becoming as bad as Tilis and Baila! Spending all her time thinking about others’ love stories… all because she did not have one of her own!

“Speaking of which. I’m going back downstairs to keep watch.” Sandor supped down his tea quickly, and nodded to both the women, before leaving, with a hand on the hilt of his sword.

The children were jigging on their seats, already having devoured more than their fair share of the cookies.

“Oh! Please do go and play! Do not think you have to sit on ceremony for me!” Sansa said warmly and they smiled, even the little ones, and they ran to play their frenzied game of hide and seek again.  Sansa and Threa watched them, smiling, as they delicately sipped their tea from the plain cups.

“He’s a very special boy.” Said Threa finally.  “But also… I think… a very fragile one.”

Sansa sighed. “I fear you are right.”

“Might I… might I be blunt Lady Sansa? I know that it is not my place.  I know I'm just the natural born daughter of a minor Lannister who’s rather forgotten all about me and his grandchildren.”

Sansa’s head spun.  She’d forgotten for a moment that the surname ‘Hill’ meant a Westerlands bastard.  But the child of a Lannister?! She had to trust the Hound’s judgement, but the Lannister connection was frightening.

“Oh, my lady! Do not fret! I have no more love for the Lannisters than I believe you have!” Threa looked over at Tommen. “But I worry for that boy among the lions.  Perhaps because he is of an age with Bryn.  Or because I remember how they treated my mother.  But I cannot see a happy life for him.  Unless… unless he has someone strong to help him.”

“Ser Hound… _the_ Hound… I believe he cares for him.”

Threa leant closer, her green eyes looking deeply into Sansa’s blue.  “Swords are important.  But a boy sometimes needs a woman to make him into the man he could be.”

Sansa near choked on her tea. “I am betrothed to his brother! And he is but a child!”

“True.  But perhaps you could be more of a mother to Tommen than his own? He’s lonely.  And he oughtn’t be.  Perhaps you will not be his wife.  Perhaps you will.  Or perhaps there is another for you.  But he needs you.  Both of you.”

Sansa blushed, and she did not know why.

“It was Sandor’s idea to bring you here, my lady. I believe that he thinks that you also need someone you can trust.  Someone who is outside of the Keep and all the twisted threads of secrets there.  It might not be the Sevenmas present you were expecting, but I hope that my offer of friendship will be acceptable to you.  Given the great differences in our circumstances.”

Sansa thought about her ‘circumstances’.  Of her life as a prisoner in the Keep.  She was not so very grand.  And this woman had greater freedoms than her.  The freedom to speak to her as an equal should be one of them, she decided quickly. She reached for the woman’s hand and took it gently in her own. “I would be honoured to call you friend.  And I wish you and Sandor all the very greatest happiness-”

Threa’s confused look was interrupted by the sudden return of the Hound.

“Gold cloaks coming!”

“Do you think they are coming here?!” gasped Sansa.

“They’re going door to door.  Might be that they are looking for something!”  Anda started to cry and Serel wailed out Tommen’s name.

“Shhh… remember Anda, Serel… remember the game we played?”  Threa looked to Sansa as she gathered the girls to her skirts.  “In the wardrobe, quickly!”

When Sansa did not move, Sandor took her roughly by the arm and dragged her to the elaborately tooled wardrobe.

“Don’t worry little ones.  Your father’s work will hide us well.” Sandor said, and Sansa was surprised by the warmth as he spoke to the children.  But then, if he was courting their mother…

He pulled Sansa inside one of them, closing the wooden door behind them, shafts of light puncturing the gloom inside as daylight came through the squirrels, rabbits and small birds. Sansa was surprised when he drew her further back into it and held her tight as he pulled a secret door across from where it was tucked away, blocking off the light entirely and hiding them.

It was very… close inside. Sansa was pushed right up against Sandor, against the sharp edges of his armour and the hilt of his sword.  She tried very hard not to think on how inappropriately close they were, but the steel and leather smell of him was filling the small space.  She found it very… distracting.

She could still just about hear the muffled voice of Threa.

“The princess and the Hound will hide, and when the naughty men are gone we will find them again! And remember… Tommen is-”

“Our brother Emrys!” chimed out the high voices of the children.

“Well done!”

Then the children giggled and laughed, returning to their games with the prince in disguise.

Sansa tried to get comfortable, held tight against the Hound. 

“Stop wriggling, little bird!” he hissed.

“Will Tommen be safe? Should we not bring him in here too?” she whispered.

“No space left.   He looks enough alike to the children and their mother. Hush now.”

“What is this place?”

“Hush now! I’ll explain later.”

Sansa went to ask more questions but was silenced by the heavy booming sound of a man beating at the wooden door to the dollmaker’s home. She heard the door open and then a gasp as heavy feet marched in.

“Taxes.” Said a muffled voice sternly.

“But I paid last week…”

“New tax.  Sevenmas tax.  By the order of the Master of Coin.”

Sansa frowned.  Lord Baelish was sending out Gold Cloaks to collect taxes just days before Sevenmas! That was… _despicable!_

“I have very little coin left after the last collection!”  Sansa heard the jangle of a coinpurse. “Wait, no, you can’t take it all! It’s Sevenmas! I have children to feed!”

“Four of them? You should have learnt to close your legs!”  Sansa felt the Hound tense against her, the leather of his gauntlet creaking as it tightened against the hilt of his sword.

“Or maybe she’s got another way of paying us, then?” another man’s voice. And this time Sansa was ready to burst from their hiding place.  They better not touch Threa!  She felt Sandor’s hands move from her upper arms to wrap about her, holding her still.

“I wouldn’t do that.  See those dolls.  You heard the rumours about the Hound?”

“Is this her?! With four bloody brats?! Guess he got tired of paying for it.  Alright.  We’ll take what coin you got.  But best have more soon, I hear Baelish’s thinking about a New Year tax as well.”

“Yes, mi’lord.” Said Threa meekly, and Sansa felt her muscles slowly unwind as the heavy boots departed, clomping down the stone steps and away.  She felt Sandor draw her even closer for a moment.  Was it a quick hug? Was he trying to comfort her?!

“Shall we… shall we finish our game of hide and seek?” Threa’s voice was wobbling, full of unshed tears that were clear even through the wood of the hidden space.  “Where’s the princess and the Hound?!”

Suddenly the doors were opened, and this time Tommen did run to hug her about her skirts.  Sansa knelt down and hugged him back, fiercely.

“Here they are!” Shouted Anda. “Found them, mama!”

Sansa looked up to see Threa sitting at the table where the tea things still lay, pushing away a tear.

“Did they hurt you?” Sandor said gruffly to her, standing over her, looking protective.  And that moment of concern was so soft, so gentle, Sansa felt something in her chest pain her.  She ignored it.

“I am well.  You should go, Sandor.”

“There’ll be more patrols if they’re gathering taxes.”

“You seem pretty good at playing hide and seek… they won’t find you.”

He rested a hand on the woman’s shoulder.  And Sansa nearly gasped aloud.  She’d never seen the Hound being affectionate with _anyone_ before.  But then… he’d brought her lemoncakes when she’d wanted them.  He’d brought Tommen here, so he could play with new friends.  Was that some kind of early Sevenmas present for the boy?  And, she remembered, the Hound had been having tea parties with the prince long before Sansa had received her first invitation…  Sansa looked away, embarrassed at being a spectator during this sweet moment between two new lovers.

“Come on, little bird.  You too Tommen.”

“I could stay! I look like Bryn, and Serel, and Anda.  I could stay!”

“Threa has children enough.” 

Sansa made a sudden decision.  She had dressed simply today.  But there were still small gold earrings in her ears, tiny sapphires in them.  There was a ring on her finger, a creamy pearl set in it.  There was her silver dragonfly necklace.  Small, thoughtful things, she had received for Sevenmases past from her family.  She took them all off and passed them to Threa. “For the children.”

“My lady! I cannot!”

The Hound grunted, removed a small coinpurse from his waist.  “Don’t show me up, little bird.” He placed it on the table in front of her. “Aint much. Most of its gone on wine already…”

“But I don’t have anything to give!” Wailed Tommen.

Threa smiled warmly at him. “From my prince, all I ask is a kiss.”  Tommen leant over and kissed her sweetly on the lips.  “Now I am the richest woman in all of King’s Landing!”

“Enough of this.  Cloaks and hoods on you daft buggers.” Tommen and Sansa did as they were told, Threa helping the boy with his. And then they were away, leaving behind Tommen’s new friends as Sandor took them through his convoluted route through the city.  Once or twice they nearly ran into Gold Cloaks, but Threa had been right.  Sandor was very good at hide and seek.  Even Tommen called out a warning once, steering them down into a busy market square.  Again men, even though they could barely see her face, were tempted by even the simple dress under her cloak, and called out to her.

“Dream of me, my lady!”

“Take one of my sweets!”

“Sweeten your lips, and ask the Maiden to send you to me!”

Sandor pushed them aside, grabbing at the most persistent and growling at them, before casting them and their boxes of sweets to the floor, the small flowers, butterflies and stars falling to the ground around them.  The sweets reminded Sansa of Maiden’s Night.  She wondered if Threa would dream of Sandor tonight?

Then they were back at the small gate, past the guard and into the Keep.  Sansa was breathless, and the tubby Prince Tommen was worse, but the Hound walked with determination. They took Tommen to his rooms first, and Sansa was very pleased when the boy hugged her fiercely again before going in to where Marissa had his bedtime warm milk waiting for him.  Tommen's maid exchanged a nod with Sandor before closing the doors.

It was just the two of them then.  Making the same long walk to her chambers that they had done so many times at Joffrey’s command before.  Would she dream about her king tonight?  Or another?

“She’s very nice.” She said suddenly, breaking the silence between them.

“Who? The dollmaker? Aye. It might get her killed like it did her husband.”  Sandor’s eyes were darting about as they walked down the long corridor, always on guard.  “He tried to help people too… people who’d upset the wrong kinds of people.  It didn’t end well for him neither.”

“But… but I hope you’ll be very happy together.”  She moved closer to him, trying to keep pace with his long strides.

“What’s that?”

 “You and Threa.”

Sandor laughed. “Me and her?” he paused thinking about it. “Good teats I suppose.  And if I want children some day, at least I know she can churn them out.  Cute little ones at that.”

Sansa looked up at him in surprise, before seeing the dark smile on his twisted lips.

“She ain’t my type, little bird. I’m a contrary bugger. I like them easily bought.”

Sansa frowned, and her offence at his comment almost made her miss what he whispered next, moving closer to her as they reached the door to her chambers.

“Or impossible to have.”

He was leaning down to her, and pushing something into her palm.  She looked down at the sweet that lay now there.  A small almond paste lemon, coloured yellow.

“Dream of me, my lady.” He hoarsely whispered the words in her ear, before turning to go. Sansa called out gently after him.

“I will seek you in my sleep.  Do not hide too well from me…. Sandor.”

He simply nodded back to her, before walking off into the shadows, his sword at his side.


End file.
